


Little Wildling

by sunkelles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: And Catelyn loving on her younger daughter, Gen, I needed Arya feeling loved, I needed this TO LIVE, Mainly because I've seen enough fics where people act like Catelyn didn't love Arya, Mother-Daughter Relationship, and I'm just like NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 19:27:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2519120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkelles/pseuds/sunkelles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is seven years old, and cradling Rickon in her arms for the first time when it first hits her that none of her siblings look a thing like her, none of them except for Jon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Wildling

**Author's Note:**

> I just needed Arya and her mom because that isn't something that occurs often in this fandom. ALL THE MOTHER/DAUGHTER FEELINGS

She is seven years old, and cradling Rickon in her arms for the first time when it first hits her that none of her siblings look a thing like her, none of them except for Jon. Robb, Sansa, and Bran all have auburn hair and bright blue eyes, and the babe in her arms has fiery red hair. None of them have Arya’s deep black hair or piercing grey eyes, except Jon. And Jon is a bastard.

 

 

The connection tramples her underneath it like a herd of rampaging cattle. What if she’s a bastard too? A part of her scoffs at the thought. How could she be seven and have never realized this before. But, really, now that she thinks if it, it could have easily slipped her notice. Her father doesn’t treat Jon any differently than the rest of them, and no one makes any comments. Sometimes it seems as though Jon is no different than the rest of them. And her mother, she isn't as affectionate with her as with the others, but does that mean what she thinks it does?

 _If I were,_ Arya thinks, _I'd know. It'd have to know._ But could she have just not noticed it, not heard the whispers?

 

 

"Isn’t he beautiful?" Catelyn asks, looking to the babe in her arms. Arya can’t find the will to respond, can’t even seem to locate her tongue. A concerned look passes across the woman (her mother’s?) face.

 

"Arya," she asks, "what’s wrong?"

 

This time, instead of being unable to find her tongue, Arya can’t control it.

 

The words that spew from her lips are completely unbidden.

 

"Am I a bastard?" The woman is startled, completely stunned by Arya’s outburst.

 

"Of course not," she says firmly, as though the very idea is absurd. Arya clutches her baby brother tighter.

 

"What could have given you that idea?" her mother, _her mother_ asks with concern dripping from her tone.

 

"None of my siblings look like me," she says softly, uncharacteristically softly, "except Jon." Her mother stiffens for a moment, at the mention of Jon, but she regains her composure momentarily.

 

"You look like your father," she says, "but you are my child as well." Tears are threatening to burst from Arya’s eyes, and she can feel her throat constricting. She places Rickon into her mother’s lap, and tries to stop the tears from falling. Her mother picks up the baby with the utmost care, and cradles him in her arms.

 

She’s never been that good at guarding her tongue, or hiding her emotions, so of course, everything comes spilling out.

 

"But you love them better," Arya says. And in that moment, she means it.

 

"Arya," her mother scolds, but Arya can’t stop now. Not after the dam has burst open.

 

"I’m not a proper lady and I don’t look like you," she says, "I like to ride and fight and I’m not as pretty as Sansa and and-" The tears cut off the rest of her rant. Arya feels weak, so terribly weak as the tears rush down her cheeks.

 

"Arya," her mother says, surprisingly softly, gently.

 

“I love you just as much as Sansa,” she tells her. Arya feels her heart lighten a bit, though those stupid tears won’t stop falling.

 

“By the seven, you can be difficult sometimes, but I love you so much,” she says with a fond smile.

 

Arya finds herself sort of melting into her mother’s embrace.

 

“You’re wild and never let anyone tell you how to be yourself,” her mother says, with so much fondness Arya’s almost afraid that her heart will melt, “my little wildling.” Arya lies her head against her mother’s shoulder.

"I love you, Arya," her mother says softly, slowly moving a lock of black hair out of Arya's face, "You're my daughter. and I love you." The look on her face looks like the one she uses when Sansa has recited a piece of _The Seven-Pointed Star_ , or when Bran first learned to walk, or when Robb has done something _honorable._ Arya almost can't catch her breath. She looks down at the tiny little boy, _her brother_ , and feels as though she _belongs._


End file.
